Disclaimer: I own nothing except the characters that were unfortunate enough emerge from the chaotic vestiges of my formerly intact mind.

Rated K+ for mild language.

New story. New characters. Old faces. Strange concept. What more could want? Well... I mean, something interest to read, of course. And I'm working on that... I promise.

A review would be much appreciated, even if it's to bash my writing skills against a metaphoric wall (mercy would be nice).

Uh... "--- x ---" means that some time has passed. Make up your own time if you really have to. Probably about ten or twenty minutes.

Eon.

The Successors.

I'm supposed to be happy. I'm sixteen and my family is loaded and I can have anything I'll ever need and I'm smart and not a complete eye sore. I should be happy, right?

"Emmaline Jane Bancroft!" my mother, the prestigious Victoria Bancroft, screeched. I think only the bats heard that, I thought. "I will not call you down again! You are coming to the banquet and that is final!"

"Why bother, Mother?" I asked, plopping down on the bottom step of the grand staircase. Ladies don't plop, Emmaline, I thought, suppressing a wry smirk. "None of your crazy George Washington fanatics like me anyway."

"You're going," she said, handing me a frilly dress. Gah, I thought. Frills.

"Sure, Mom." I'm not happy.

Twenty Minutes Later in Stars Hollow…

"Emmaline, we're going to discuss this when we get home," my mother pressed as we walked into a certain "Luke's Diner."

"We always do, Mom," I sighed. "Just get to the function. You're already late. I'll stay here until you get back."

"I'm not sure about this, Sebastian." My father, as always, was completely unresponsive. "Emmaline, please listen to reason! This place looks like a trucker stop!"

I dropped my head in my hands. "If a trucker starts harassing me, I promise I'll scream."

"Let's go, Victoria," my father finally said in his monotone, insurance voice.

"This is a breeding ground for whores and pedophiles, Sebastian," I heard my mother say before her voice mercifully faded away.

I looked up to see a teenager in a Hives t-shirt and an apron smirking at me. "You wanna take my order?" I snapped, groaning and collapsing onto a stool at the counter.

--- x ---

"And you know the worst part? They don't even know me. They're so set on molding me into their 'oh so perfect socialite' that they never bothered to learn that my favorite color is red, I hate apples and I can't drink coffee because it reminds me of the time Richie Grey spilled it all over me in the fifth grade." I paused to breath and I looked curiously at Hives boy. "By the way, what's your name?"

He looked at me like I was insane. "I'm Will."

I smiled. "Emma."

"So, Emma. Have you calmed down sufficiently enough to ask you something?"

"Uh... sure, I guess."

"Alright," Will put his pencil down on the counter and said, "Why the hell are you wearing a dress in Luke's Diner? And did you recently escape from a mental asylum? Where did you learn to rant like that and how did you acquire such a large lung capacity? How do you not run out of words... or air? I've been standing here for ten minutes, waiting for you to order, and all I found out was that you won't be asking for apples or coffee!"

"Mm... pie," I decided with finality.

"What?" he asked, startled.

"I want pie. That's it."

"Just pie?"

"Yup. Don't want a full stomach while my mother's screaming at me."

"Amen to that, sister," someone said from behind me.

"Hey, Mom," Will said, smiling. "I found someone crazy for you to talk to while Rory's away." Huh. He has a nice smile. I quickly snapped out of my thoughts.

"Lorelai Danes here," she said, sticking out her hand. I shook it, smiling slightly. "Please entertain me. My daughter's abandoned me for her job and William here is a health nut like his father, so I can't associate with him. You're the only one left."

"She's a ranter, Mom," Will said, wiping off the counter. "She can go a mile a minute and never run out of anything to say. She complained about her hosh-posh parents for ten minutes straight."

Lorelai smiled at me. "We're going to get along well."

--- x ---

"You're the Lorelai Gilmore?!" I gasped. "You're a legend amongst the elite Hartford rebel teenagers! Thank you so much." I bowed my head slightly and put my hands together.

"Are you kidding?" Will asked, incredulous. "My mom's a legend for getting knocked up at sixteen?"

"Shut up, Will. I'm talking to my hero."

"Yeah," Lorelai agreed. "Shut up, Will. Besides, I didn't just get knocked up at sixteen. I rebelled in a myriad of ways."

"I don't doubt you for a second," Will said, grinning. "So, Emma. You never answered my question. Why're you wearing a pink, poofy dress in Stars Hollow?"

"My parents and I were going to some useless DAR banquet and miraculously, I got out of it at the last minute. My parents dumped me here in this extremely loud dress so they wouldn't be late," I replied, grimacing. "Why can't they do something useful? Or maybe get some decent music. I wouldn't mind going if they were blaring the Monkees."

"Ah, the joys of obligations," Lorelai said, patting me on the shoulder. "You'll escape it one day."

"I'm wondering if being kicked out of that world feels any different than escaping," I wondered out loud.

"It doesn't," Lorelai assured me. "As long as it's far behind, it doesn't."

--- x ---

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Lorelai Gilmore," my mother replied as she came—well, sauntered— into the diner, half an hour late.

"Danes, actually."

"Lorelai Gilmore?" my dad asked, suddenly gaining interest. "What is a Gilmore doing in Stars Hollow?"

"Danes, actually."

"Who knows, Sebastian? I mean, really—"

"Let's go, Mother," I interrupted. I could feel a monologue coming up.

As my father was muttering something about his company's new policy on car insurance, I looked over my shoulder and said, "Bye Lorelai. Bye Will."

They said goodbye and as the door was shutting, I heard Will yell out, "Come back to Stars Hollow one day!"

Stars Hollow, I thought. Huh. Stars Hollow.

So... what do you think? What do you not think? Is it bad? Is it good? Do you need to read some confusing, political Ayn Rand writing to get this out of your head?

A little heads up... the next chapter is going to be set quite a few years later. And if it wasn't completely obvious (which it was), Lorelai and Luke got married and had a kid named William. He's the same age as Emma. Forgot to work that in. And I guess Rory would be... 37-39 years old and Lorelai would be that plus sixteen. Yup. Definitely hate math.